


Tangere: to touch

by Justonebigbee (sunlight)



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Massage, M/M, Massage, Service Kink, Unrequited, back massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 09:23:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12056004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlight/pseuds/Justonebigbee
Summary: “Jared?” Richard grumbles into the couch cushions.“Mmm?” Jared hums. He doesn’t trust his voice, not after his pitiful attempt earlier. At least Richard had still been asleep at that point.“Don’t stop,” Richard says. “Please.”Jared’s hands return to Richard’s back the instant Richard lets go of Jared’s wrist. Richard’s wish is his command, really. Anything Richard wants, Jared will do. Pronto. And right now, he has express direction to touch Richard’s back and make himfeel good.





	Tangere: to touch

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not surprised this happened again. Me writing a fic about massages. Well! Here we are. Silicon Valley hell. Enjoy! 
> 
> Thank you to [Camille](http://samwell-womens-hockey.tumblr.com) and [Roo](http://lacageauxfilmes.tumblr.com) for both beta-ing!

Richard is asleep on the couch again. And, well, it’s not Jared’s place to tell him to move. It doesn’t affect him. But as someone who has slept on that couch, he feels it is his duty to encourage Richard to move somewhere that’s actually comfortable. Like Richard’s bed. Not that Jared would know if Richard’s bed were comfortable or not, because it’s not like he’s slept on Richard’s bed, even though he’s definitely thought about it. No, just an educated guess. 

Jared kneels down next to the couch so he can get closer to Richard. He expects Richard to look...blissful, maybe—he’s asleep, after all—but his face is screwed up in knots, eyebrows furrowed and his forehead wrinkled. It’s concerning, honestly. Sleeping should be a time of uninterrupted rest. Not that Jared could really talk, though, given his own troubles with sleep. 

Jared puts a hand on Richard’s shoulder. There isn’t any response; he must be in a deeper stage of sleep than Jared had originally thought. Jared’s guess was that Richard had only recently fallen asleep, but it’s possible it’s been...Well, the last time Jared passed through the room was about 45 minutes ago and Richard  _ had  _ seemed a bit worse for the wear, more sluggish at his computer. 

“Rich—” Jared starts to try to rouse Richard, but the rest of the name gets garbled in his throat. It’s been a few hours since he’s said anything and with such a dry mouth like right now, well, let’s just say he’s used to it. 

Jared squeezes the hand that’s still on Richard’s shoulder. He hopes Richard will wake up enough to walk down to his bedroom and hoist himself up to his loft. Jared is definitely interested in assisting him, but the waking up is sort of a crucial starting point. 

The gentle squeeze does enough to encourage Richard to shift his body a little, but not in the way Jared wanted. Richard turns his head first, pushing his face into the back of the couch, and then rolls his body to match, propped up on his side.

Ever determined, Jared palms the center of Richard’s upper back. It’s—the muscles there—they’re tense. It’s atrocious. Probably due to all the slouching that Richard does. Jared adds  _ posture _ to a mental list of Things He Can Do To Try To Influence Positive Change On The Crew. 

In the meantime, well. Is Jared allowed to do this? It’s really the least he can do to relieve some of the tension, but it feels selfish. He can’t deny that this satisfies the deep yearning to touch Richard he feels on a day-to-day basis. As much as Jared wants to claim it’s for the bettering of the company, he must at least atone to his desires. 

Jared’s right hand comes up to rub at Richard’s shoulders, both of which are now exposed because of Richard’s turn over. It seems Jared can’t help himself. Richard seems to still be asleep, breathing at a slow and natural pace, so Jared continues despite the little voice in his head telling him how this is  _ Wrong, Jared! Just wrong!  _

Jared presses his thumbs on both sides of the juncture between Richard’s neck and shoulders, digging the tips in lightly to relieve some pressure. Richard’s trapezius muscles are so weak, and it’s probably making his posture even worse. This might be a bigger problem than one that’s solved by sitting up straighter. Jared adds _ barbells _ to his mental list of Things To Buy Second-Hand For The Incubator/For Richard. 

Jared slides his fingers around the front of Richard’s shoulders and then pulls his wrists back rounding over the curvature. The thin t-shirt Richard is wearing gets caught in the pull, and he hopes the collar coming tugging against his neck doesn’t bother Richard like that feeling bothers Jared. Just in case it does he lifts his hands off of Richard’s back. 

Even just the thought of imagining something constricting his neck makes Jared shiver. He shakes out his head, rolls his shoulders. Pulling on his collar, he breathes deeply for a moment and reminds himself that he’s in no danger and no one is touching him.  

Jared considers leaving it right there, calling quits, shaking Richard awake instead of doing this. The reality is that if un-checked, he’d probably end up giving Richard a full on backrub while he sleeps away underneath him. And that’s creepy. That’s almost like. Taking advantage. But he’s doing it to relieve Richard’s tension, so maybe it’s polite? Can it be both a bad thing and a good thing at the same time?    


Jared’s thoughts are interrupted by a hand on his wrist.  _ Richard’s _ hand on his wrist, it seems. Richard is  _ awake?  _

“Jared?” Richard grumbles into the couch cushions. 

“Mmm?” Jared hums. He doesn’t trust his voice, not after his pitiful attempt earlier. At least Richard had still been asleep at that point. 

“Don’t stop,” Richard says. “Please.” 

Jared’s hands return to Richard’s back the instant Richard lets go of Jared’s wrist. Richard’s wish is his command, really. Anything Richard wants, Jared will do. Pronto. And right now, he has express direction to touch Richard’s back and make him  _ feel good.  _

A fervor runs through Jared’s body, flushing his skin. He draws himself closer to the couch, still on his knees. This would be easier with Richard on his stomach and Jared up behind him, but Jared doesn’t trust himself to give the suggestion.

Instead, Jared rests one hand on Richard’s side and pushes along his spine with the thumb of his other hand. He outlines circles slowly, starting up at Richard’s neck. He stops when he encounters a knot and presses in hard with his thumb, but switches to his knuckles. Richard is silent beneath his hands, and he almost wishes there was some kind of feedback. Is he pressing too hard? Too softly? What is Jared’s pain tolerance anyway? 

“Richard, is this—” Jared begins to ask.

“Harder,” Richard cuts him off. “Your hands feel amazing, Jared.” 

_ Amazing. _ Jared presses against the first knot, reinforces his hand with the one that was bracing on Richard’s side. The force pushes Richard over onto his stomach, so that problem is solved. Richard thinks Jared’s hands feel  _ Amazing.  _

As Jared digs into knots along Richard’s back with more zeal, his thumbs start to hurt. He hasn’t even gotten midway down Richard’s back, though, so he’ll need to figure out an alternate solution next time. 

Oh, god. Next time? Is that even on the docket? Jared should be savoring this as if it were the last opportunity he’ll ever get to touch Richard. Though if Richard asked, Jared would be down on his knees again in a heartbeat. Well...that evokes different imagery than him giving another back massage. Not that it’s not all true. He’ll get on his knees for anything Richard wants. Anything he needs.

Jared shakes his head at himself and tries to direct his attention back to Richard. It’s an awkward angle going at him from the side, and the brief thoughts of sitting on the couch atop Richard—kneeling over him—make him feel dizzy. 

Despite the ache in his thumbs, Jared continues rubbing out knots along Richard’s shoulder blades, revelling in the way that muscles untense—relaxing finally. He’ll look up some guides in case this happens again sometime. Better to be prepared with actual skills that professional masseuses use rather than what he can remember of the few massages he’d gotten from a college boyfriend. 

Jared imagines that Richard probably has a sore neck and shoulders, so he decides to move his hands there. It’s probably better to keep them away from Richard’s lower back anyway, just to avoid any temptation of going lower. 

Richard’s neck is taut, so Jared attempts to loosen it by pressing against his hairline with his thumbs and dragging them down toward his shoulders a few times. Jared could really use a hand massage after this, but he wouldn’t know who to ask. 

 

\--

 

“Uh, hey, Jared?” Richard appears in the doorway to the kitchen. He’s cradling his left hand close to his chest and looks sort of pained—his face scrunched up and lips downturned. 

Richard looks vulnerable. Jared’s instinct to wrap Richard in a blanket and provide him with snacks and attention is one that he has to clamp down on, hard. Others have referred to him as  _ mothering _ , which Jared doesn’t like very much. He simply cares for Richard’s well-being, that certainly doesn’t make him Richard’s mother, nor does he  _ want  _ to be. 

“Richard,” Jared breathes out. He clears his throat before continuing. “What’s up?” It’s not like him to pause in the doorway, to act like he doesn’t have permission to go into the kitchen, which is really a communal and public space. 

“So, it’s not really a big deal, actually,” Richard says. “But my wrists and fingers, they’re. Well I’m not sure if it’s actually cramping or what, but they, um, sort of ache a bit. Like, uh, they tingle sometimes. So, I was thinking maybe, uh…” Richard trails off and waves his fingers in front of himself, as if he can’t think of the words to use. 

“Of course,” Jared says. He understands the gesture, the fingers. Richard wants a hand massage. It's been a few days since the back massage. Jared wonders how long Richard's been waiting to ask. “Why don’t we meet during my mid-morning break? I was planning on taking it around 10:30am today.” Forty-five or so minutes from now. That gives Jared enough time to finish up this project  _ and _ read over a how-to guide on hand massages. “Will that work for you? Where would you like to meet?” 

Richard’s eyes shoot open, like he’s surprised that Jared would agree. As if Jared would turn this down.

“Uh,” Richard grumbles. “We could meet, um. In, well. In my room, maybe? Since it’s more private in—in there?”

“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea, Richard.” Jared says. “I’m glad I’ll be able to help you feel better.” 

Richard nods and almost smiles before exiting the kitchen.

He’ll stay late to finish his work, Jared thinks. There are more important tasks at hand. Jared keys  _ Hand massage how to  _ into the search bar and sets off on Operation: Make Richard’s Hands and Wrists Feel Better. 

  
\--

 

With one hand, Jared knocks on Richard’s bedroom door. It’s exactly 10:30am. Richard should be ready for him.

The door swings open and Richard smiles, only meeting Jared’s eyes for a moment. Richard turns back around to make room for Jared.

Jared drags in the wheely chair behind him and gestures to Richard’s desk chair for him to sit. He does, wordlessly. Jared arranges the chair so that they’re facing each other and sits down. Richard looks down at his hands immediately upon meeting Jared’s eyes. 

“May I come closer?” Jared asks. “We’ll need to have our legs touching, most likely, in order for this to work.” 

Richard nods, so Jared scoots his chair closer. Their knees touch. Richard’s eyes dart around the room, looking anywhere but at Jared. If only Richard would slow down for a moment, take a deep breath, maybe  _ look at Jared, _ he could reassure him. 

The shock of the skin-to-skin contact almost makes Jared drop Richard’s hand as soon as he picks it up. Jared swallows to attempt to get rid of the nervousness that’s bundled up in his throat. He can do this. Wikihow and snapguide and livestrong and women’s health….all the guides he read for hand massages have made him more than prepared for the technical elements of this, but none of them mentioned the emotional side. 

What is one to do when they’re holding the hand of someone they care for so deeply? And it's the first time, and it’s for a massage, not just to hold them? What’s Jared to do?

For now, Jared breathes deeply. He pulls Richard’s hand over toward himself and pulls it down to his lap, laying his own hands on the towel draped there. He cradles Richard’s hand, his palm facing downward. It’s warm, which surprises Jared. All this time, he’d imagined that Richard had poor circulation and cold fingers. 

“Do you have any allergies?” Jared asks, reaching for the lotion in his pants pocket.

“Allergies?” Richard parrots back. “Like. Um, I’m allergic to bees? Does that count?”  

“Well, that certainly counts. But what I’m really asking...” Jared trails off as he holds up the tub. “Is if this is alright to use?”

Richard’s cheeks redden as he nods, but he looks away again, not meeting Jared’s eyes. Jared knows Richard tends to get embarrassed when he’s corrected or given direction on something that must seem simple. He must feel foolish for not realizing what Jared meant. 

Jared should have been more clear to avoid something like this from happening. He resolves to make it up to Richard with a stellar hand massage. One to write home about. And one that he actually  _ could  _ write home about if he wanted, because his hands will feel well enough to do so! 

The lotion is cold as Jared squirts it onto his palm, so he rubs his hands together to warm it before picking up Richard’s hand from the towel. 

Jared does just as the guides suggested and starts with smooth and gentle strokes with his thumbs to distribute the lotion across the back of Richard’s hand. Effleurage. It’s the French word for it. He’d memorized it in case Richard asked. He doesn’t, of course. Jared repeats the motions on Richard’s palm, spreading the lotion into each crack and crevice of his skin. 

It’s mostly silent as Jared continues his work methodically. He gives attention to each finger, squeezing them and tugging and bending. The only sound is Jared checking in with Richard for feedback, asking “is this okay?” more times than probably necessary.  

Richard responds with nods and shakes of his head rather than speaking aloud. Perhaps his pride is still hurting from earlier, Jared posits. It was such a small thing to still be agonizing over, but Jared understands that anxiety can mean the littlest things have the potential to be blown up into full-scale issues. Probably best to get Richard distracted, pry him out of his mind where he might be cycling downward. 

“Say, Richard, I’ve been thinking.” 

“Hmm?” 

Jared asks a few leading questions; Richard can go on for a while once he’s on a subject he’s passionate about. Then Jared can relax and focus on the hand massage, letting Richard’s voice wrap around him, the numbers and technical terms comforting him like a warm blanket. 

 

\--

 

Jared looks up from his laptop as Richard crosses the kitchen. He grabs a glass from a cabinet, and as he turns around, their eyes meet. Jared smiles immediately in response to the eye contact. His heart thumps a bit harder when the smile is returned. 

Jared allows the boost in mood from exchanging smiles with Richard to motivate his work, and turns back to the spreadsheet open on his screen. Jared won’t let this distract him; he’s already forty-five minutes behind schedule due to the tasks of researching hand massages and finding lotion becoming higher priorities earlier in the day. 

Jared’s not perturbed that his workday has become longer because of Richard’s needs. After all, would it really be a day at Pied Piper if that wasn’t the case?  

Richard steps out of Jared’s peripheral view, and the temptation to turn his head to follow him is twofold. Not only does Jared want to keep looking at Richard, watching him, observing, but he also is usually very uncomfortable with people standing behind him while he is sitting down. Too many unknown variables and so much vulnerability. With Richard, however, he feels safe. He trusts Richard. 

Which is why he’s not expecting it when two hands wrap around his throat from behind. 

Okay.

_ Breathe. _ He tells himself.  _ Evaluate the situation. _

He’s over-reacting. The hands are not all the way around his throat. It’s mostly the back of his neck. But before he can tell his brain that, reassure himself that he is not in any immediate danger, he’s already thrown Richard’s hands off of his neck and run out of the room. 

 

\--

 

“Richard, it’s not that I didn’t appreciate it—I did,” Jared says. He’s finally caught Richard in the kitchen alone for the opportunity to explain. It’s been nearly a week of Richard avoiding one-on-one encounters with Jared, of leaving rooms as Jared enters them, and Jared has had enough of it. He attempts to keep eye contact with Richard as he speaks, which is easier said than done. “The massage, last week? It was very thoughtful of you. I simply have an aversion to having my neck touched.” 

“Oh,” Richard replies. His arms are crossed, betraying some of the uneasiness he must be feeling. “So, um. I mean—If I were to. I mean, to try it again. You mean, I could do that?” He looks up and makes eye contact with Jared for a moment. “Just I wouldn’t touch your neck, obviously,” he adds in a rush. 

The thought hadn’t occurred to Jared that Richard would want to attempt to massage him again. Perhaps Richard is concerned with repaying the service to Jared, which just won’t do.

“You don’t...you don’t owe me anything, you know that, right Richard?” Jared asks.

“It’s not—that’s not it!” Richard raises his voice. “I just thought, well. I thought that...since it felt so nice, I thought you deserved to feel nice too.” Richard’s voice tails off and he stands there for a moment, one hand scratching the back of his neck. “Only, I’m not sure how to give a massage,” he adds quickly, “and I obviously did something wrong earlier, so I’m—I’m. I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate the thought, Richard.” Jared’s touched that Richard would think to reciprocate, and surprised by the apology. Richard isn’t usually so aware when he’s done something wrong, and doing nice things for others isn’t his usual mode of operation. 

“You don’t need to return the massages, though,” Jared continues. “I don’t have issues with back pain like you do.”

Richard nods.

“And me helping with your pain has the benefit of keeping the company running smoothly, which is something that impacts everyone.” Jared pauses before continuing, careful to tread lightly. “Richard, I can tell that your back is sore.” Jared says. He isn’t sure why Richard won’t ask him for a massage and it’s making him feel very impatient and upset. Why won’t Richard let him  _ help _ him? “Will you let me massage you again?” 

“Ah—” Richard gulps audibly. “Um, yes? If you think it’s really what’s best for, for Pied Piper. For the good of the company, yeah?” 

The company. Right. Jared almost let his feelings get in front of what’s  _ really  _ important here. This is about Pied Piper. Richard agrees. 

“We could use my bed?” Richard’s voice draws Jared out of his thoughts. “This time? Um. It’s more, uh. More private in there. You know. It was quiet there last time.”

Richard’s room certainly is more private. And on the bed? Jared won’t have unintentional interruptions to hold him back from doing something inappropriate.  

“Yes,” Jared agrees. He chooses his next words very carefully, thinking them through before he continues. “For the sake of Pied Piper...I think it is best we use your bed. And also, for the sake of productivity, we can do so outside of work hours?” 

“When are you done today?”

“Oh!” Jared wasn’t expecting to do this so soon. He still needs to purchase massage oil and make a playlist of calming massage music. “Today?” 

Richard nods enthusiastically. 

“Well, I would need to run an errand after I finish working on this, and eat dinner, but we could make it…” Jared calculates the driving time to get the oil in his head. He figures the playlist wasn’t really  _ that  _ necessary. He can put on the classical radio station, or play from the white noise app on his phone. “Let’s say 8:30pm, your bed?”

 

\--

 

Jared drips the oil directly onto Richard’s back. Which. His back isn’t perfect—there are scars from must what have been a horrific case of teenage bacne, and several large moles decorate the pale skin—but it deserves to be worshipped.

And Jared has been assigned to be Richard’s disciple.

Instead of pressing his palms together in prayer, Jared places them on Richard’s skin. It’s an electric feeling, the touch smoothed by the oil, and he drags his hands all around to disperse it. Effleurage again. Richard still doesn’t ask.

Guided by his thumbs, Jared begins to draw circles on Richard’s back. From this angle, sitting on Richard’s side and bearing down, he can use so much more weight than the previous back massage. He targets the knots that adorn Richard’s shoulder blades and spine, pushing and rubbing them out of existence. Richard lets out a few stifled breaths in response to the pressure. 

“If you need to make noises, Richard, that’s perfectly alright with me,” Jared says, breaking the silence. It’s something he had promised himself he wouldn’t say to Richard—but the deeper parts of him, the disgusting and greedy parts—won out over his sense of professionalism. He wants to hear Richard moan, wants to save the sounds for later so he can play them back with a hand around his cock. 

Jared continues. His thumbs are tired from digging out the knots, but he learned a way to reinforce them from a guide he’d read, so they don’t hurt quite as much as last time. Still, he switches to using his fingers, rotating between the knuckles and the tips, between hard and soft touches. 

The bare skin in front of him is alluring on a level Jared’s unfamiliar with. It’s a compulsion to touch as much of it as he can, so he does. Stretching his arms, he aims to cover all of the skin, take it all in. 

The greedy part of his brain wins over again, and Jared leans his forehead against Richard’s upper back. He takes in a deep breath and the smell of Richard—sort of a mix of sweat, deodorant, and something he can’t quite identify—is overwhelming. Instead of drawing his face away from Richard’s skin like he should, he closes his eyes and pauses for a moment. 

Jared’s head moves without his permission. It’s only a fraction of an inch that he tilts before he’s pressing his lips against Richard’s spine. He could easily pull away, pass it off as an accidental brush of his mouth on Richard’s back, but when he tries to do so, his mouth responds with a mind of its own, puckering and kissing him again, this time more real. 

And once he’s begun, Jared cannot find it in himself to stop. The kisses are an act of worship, and he pushes them desperately against Richard like a man in need of salvation. 

After a moment, Jared’s head clears. He realizes what he’s been doing, kissing along the lines in Richard’s back.

“Richard, turn over if you want me to continue,” Jared says. “Or stay where you are and we can ignore that this ever happened.” Jared thinks his voice sounds needy, not commanding, but Richard follows the instruction immediately, turning over to face him.

Jared surges up to kiss Richard on his neck. He’s sloppy, leaving a trail of spit as he moves down. Jared almost understands the obsession vampires have with human necks—Richard’s is pale, soft, smooth, freckled, and absolutely irresistible. Jared continues down to Richard’s chest and collarbone. He’s tempted to leave a bruise, but there are more pressing things to try. 

Instead of entertaining the idea of a hickey, Jared kisses down to one of Richard’s nipples and promptly sucks it into his mouth. 

“Fuck—Jared, fuck.” 

Richard, ever the silent guy, finally moved to speak. And it just took a nipple. Jared pinches the other one with his fingers.

“Fuck! Jared, do that again,” Richard whines. 

Feeling impassioned at the tone of Richard’s voice, Jared laps at the nipple in his mouth before biting it just ever so slightly. Another yelp from Richard. Good. 

Jared works over the nipple with his teeth, biting harder each time until Richard’s voice is damningly near a howl. Jared pulls back. There are other people in this house, after all, and if Jared shushes Richard he might never hear another sound from him. Best to switch plans of attack. Sorry, Richard’s other nipple. 

Jared leans in again to kiss down Richard’s bare chest until he reaches his belly button. Quickly, he pulls away again to admire Richard’s torso, wet with oil and spit. It really is extraordinary. 

“Richard, can I—” Jared brings his hand to Richard’s fly and looks up to his face. “ _ Please.” _

Richard’s head falls back against the bed. 

“Oh, fuck, Jared,” Richard gasps. “Anything, please.” 

Jared makes quick work of the button and fly and pushes down Richard’s pants and boxers in one swoop. Richard kicks them off and spreads his legs, creating the perfect spot for Jared to crawl in close. Jared does so, arms trailing their way down Richard’s thighs toward his groin. 

“Can I please suck you off?” Jared isn’t afraid to admit that he’s begging. “Please, Richard, I’d do anything for you—”

“Yes!” Richard spurts, eyes wide like Jared’s sexual proposition has only just hit him now after several moments. Jared pulled down Richard’s pants and underwear and is staring at his now exposed cock in a way that could probably only be described as  _ greedily _ . What did Richard think was happening? 

“Yes, yes,  _ yes _ ,” Richard continues. “Please, Jared.”

Jared doesn’t have to be asked twice; he grabs Richard’s cock with his left hand and dives right in to lap at the head of it. Pre-come never tastes good, but Jared doesn’t actually mind the taste of the beads appearing there. Instead of wiping them off with his hand like he would usually do in this situation, Jared sucks them into his mouth. 

“Jared, oh—” Richard yelps.

A hand appears in Jared’s hair, timid and light with its touch. Jared joins it with one of his own and pushes, urging Richard to take some control, pull Jared in closer, jam more of his cock into Jared’s throat. 

Richard doesn’t get the hang of it right away, which is alright. He’s always been a self-conscious kind of guy when it comes to taking what he needs, but Jared is okay with waiting. He bobs his head down a few times, trying to give Richard an idea of what he can take. Because it’s a lot more than this. 

After a few minutes of Jared working his hands on Richard and sucking him low, trying to edge him closer to taking over a bit, he accepts that he needs to say something. Jared lets Richard’s cock fall out of his mouth and doesn’t bother to wipe the spit off of his chin when he turns his head up to look at Richard’s face.

“You can pull my hair,” Jared says. “Tug me around, do what you want with me. I don’t mind. I like it, even.” 

Both of Richard’s hands fly to Jared’s hair, one giving an experimental tug. “Like that?” Richard asks.

“Harder,” Jared responds, and then he’s back on Richard’s dick like there was never any interruption.

Sucking cock is an art, Jared believes. An art form with rules and guidelines, of course. Ones that—if followed—will lead to quite a beautiful result. He’s had years to hone the rules, adapt them to what he needs. Jared knows that so many of them must be variable, able to adapt based on the receiver’s desires. Richard doesn’t seem to know  _ what  _ he wants, but Jared can work with that. 

Richard certainly appreciates a mouth on his dick, so Jared extrapolates. He pulls his mouth off and replaces it with a hand, jerking him slowly but with a good amount of pressure. He moves his lips to Richard’s balls, pushes a kiss against the base of his cock before licking there, taking one and then the other into his mouth. 

If Richard’s squirming and panting is anything to go by, he’s a fan. Jared loves balls almost as much as he loves cock. And Richard’s? They’re so, so sensitive and almost equally as soft. 

After a bit, Jared switches the placement of his hand and mouth, fondles Richard while he sucks him down. He alternates using a flat tongue and a curved one as he laps from base to tip. 

Jared maneuvers his hands behind Richard and places one on each of his cheeks. Everything is slick, wet with spit and pre-come and massage oil, and Jared kneads his fingers into the fat and muscle there, spreading apart Richard’s cheeks. 

“Oh!” Richard gasps. “More—there—please.”

Jared moves his right hand around further to press a knuckle against Richard’s asshole as he pushes Richard’s cock deep into his throat. He adds more pressure to the pucker and instantly feels the warm and sickly taste of Richard’s come pulsing down his throat. He swallows, revelling in the knowledge that he’s done something that made Richard feel so good. 

By the look on Richard’s face, the blowjob ended a lot sooner than _ both _ of them were expecting. Perhaps Richard’s experience with his asshole is limited and too much too soon had him coming in a moment. Regardless, it appears as though Richard is pleased—his mouth is agape and his eyes slide close as Jared watches him.  

Jared pulls away from Richard’s groin and grabs the towel he’d brought up for the massage. He the wetness from his face and hands and offers it to Richard, who quickly towels off his dick before covering his waist with a blanket. 

“Wow,” Richard says, after a moment. “I guess we’re  all  having a _really_ good work day on Monday, huh?” 

Jared stills. He’d thought—maybe. Maybe this wasn’t just for the good of the company after all. A quick recounting of the entire encounter has him realizing that of course he was foolish to think this was personal. Foolish to think Richard has any interest in him at all. They never even kissed on the mouth. It was all about Richard feeling better. 

“Yes,” Jared agrees, although reluctantly. “I will see you then, Richard. Have a good evening.” 

Jared swings himself over the edge of the bed in one fell movement, only stepping on one of the ladder steps before he 

“Wait, Jared, what about—”

“It’s getting late, Richard,” Jared says. His voice is gruffer now. “I need to head home and get to bed.” He can’t take out these frustrations on Richard, it’s not his fault that he doesn’t return Jared’s feelings. Jared takes a deep breath, pausing at the door to Richard’s bedroom. “Have a nice weekend,” he says, not turning to look back at Richard.  

Jared leaves the bedroom, pulling the door shut behind him. He uses the restroom and grabs his bag, darting from room to room to grab all of his belongings. Luckily, no one else is up and around the house. 

The air outside has a chill to it and a slight breeze accompanies Jared as he walks to his car. The cold is a welcome reprieve from the heat emanating from the house. Whether it’s all of the tech and electricity or just Richard’s presence emanating it, Jared isn’t sure.

Now that he’s finally alone, Jared allows himself a moment to sit and think. 

Yes. That just happened. 

And it can’t affect his working relationship with Richard. Jared can move on now, now that he knows no feelings are returned. Now he knows for certain that it’s pointless to even dream about it happening. 

It’s late, so Jared puts the car into gear and starts driving. At the stop sign, he’s overtaken by a heaviness he can’t seem to shake, and a few blocks later, tears prickle in the corner of his eyes. It’s futile to try to shake this off, he realizes, and he pulls over to the side of the road. He chooses a spot next to an empty field, far enough away from prying eyes. 

The small trickle of tears becomes sobs just mere moments after putting the car in park and turning the key. At this rate, he can only make room for three minutes of unbridled crying in this month’s tear budget. His attempts at cooling it down to allow more time to wallow just make him more emotional. He’s trapped in a snotty box of tears and his time is dwindling.

There are napkins in the pocket on the driver side door, and Jared readies one to pat his eyes dry for the ride home. Everything is so present in his mind, replaying and intensifying. The embarrassment for being so exposed, showing something so primal to Richard. The incredible sorrow lingers, feels heavy inside his body, like everything is sagging down toward the earth.

Three minutes go by quickly when you’re sobbing in your car, Jared learns. He dabs his eyes with the napkin and takes a steadying breath. It’s time to go home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Womp womp, sorry 
> 
> [Here's my tumblr!](http://bittyybee.tumblr.com)


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